Pie
by Hutchie
Summary: A culinary disaster.


~700 words. A culinary disaster.

Pie

by Allie

Starsky leaned on the table in Hutch's kitchen. He pushed himself backwards and forward, looking nervous and skeptical. "I don't know about this, Hutch…"

"C'mon, Starsk, you know you love pumpkin pie." Hutch carried a steaming pan of something towards the table. It looked orange and faintly burnt on top. He wore orange oven mitts, a big white apron, and a smirk on his face.

Starsky gulped. "Yeah, but when you asked me over here to try some…you didn't say you'd made it from real pumpkins, from your own garden."

"From my own garden," agreed Hutch proudly. "Well, what else was I going to do with them after Halloween?" He'd set them on his porch, displayed in a naturalistic arrangement along with corn stalks and dried ears of colorful Indian corn. It had looked nice—a lot nicer than his homemade pie, actually.

Now, he put the pie down on a potholder and took off his giant oven mitts. They were a very bright orange. "Try that, Starsk. Just try it."

Starsky swallowed. "Do you at least have some whipped cream? The squirt kind?" He mimed squirting it on the pie, and his brows rose imploringly. He smiled a little, hopefully.

Hutch gave him a look. "You want to ruin it with chemical, artificial…" He reached into the fridge, got out the whipped cream, and set it out. "At least try the first bite without it. Otherwise you won't taste the real flavors."

"That's what I'm hoping," muttered Starsky.

"What was that?"

"Uh, nothing, Hutch." Starsky eyed the pie with misgiving, and then reached for a knife and cut himself a very small piece.

"Not hungry, Starsk?"

"Uh, I don't want to use it all up."

"No, really. Go ahead. I have three more pumpkins…"

Starsky laughed nervously, and drew the plate towards him, and shielded it with one bent hand. "I couldn't."

Hutch shrugged. And stared at his partner. "Well? Aren't you going to try it?"

Starsky looked at the pie. He looked at Hutch. He looked back at the pie. He gulped. "Here goes." Taking up his fork with trepidation, he eyed the piece of pie. The crust was very brown (whole wheat), and the pie filling had a strange consistency. It didn't look like normal pumpkin pie—all one, smooth, deep orange color. Instead, it had the look and feel of squash—stringy squash. Starsky poked at it once, then cut a bite, and raised it to his mouth. He saw Hutch watching him, and gave his partner a nervous smile.

"Go ahead," urged Hutch. "There's plenty more."

Bravely, Starsky ate the bite of pie. His eyes widened. His brows rose. And he chewed. And chewed some more. At last, with effort, he swallowed.

"That's—that's some real healthy pie there, Hutch. Could you excuse me a minute? I realized I forgot to go to the bathroom." He put down his fork and left the room in a flash.

Hutch stared. "You didn't like it, Starsk?" Hutch looked at the pie. He looked in the direction his partner had gone. Then he shrugged, picked up the fork, cut another bite of pie and tasted it. His eyes widened and he raced to the trashcan and spat and spat. "Eugh." He wiped his mouth. "That's disgusting…"

He looked back towards the bathroom. "Uh, you okay in there, Starsk?"

"Fine, Hutch." A muffled sound, like gagging, suppressed.

Hutch winced. "Pie's not too great, is it, partner?"

"Did you forget the sugar?" Starsky sounded forlorn and pitiful.

"Uh, I thought I'd use honey. And the recipe called for too much, I thought, so I used less."

"Hutch. Is it supposed to be stringy like that?"

"Uh, don't think so. I guess I did something else wrong…" Hutch grimaced. It was supposed to turn out edible. Why couldn't he cook something edible?

"Just call it squash pie and your health food pals will love it."

Starsky emerged, looking faintly green at the gills. He gave Hutch a brave smile and a pat on the back. "Why don't we go to a diner, pal? I've got a sudden hunger for—"

"Yes?" Hutch smiled.

Starsky smiled back. He stuck his chin out towards his partner and grinned. "Cherry pie."

Based, sort of, on my own pie disaster(s). I like using fresh pumpkin, and no sugar, but I'm usually the only person who can stand to eat it. This year, even I couldn't. It turned out stringy and made me want to gag. Better luck next year! -A.


End file.
